


Fallout

by kirasha, Titti



Series: Moving Forward [2]
Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Journey Big Bang Challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-07
Updated: 2011-12-07
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:38:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirasha/pseuds/kirasha, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titti/pseuds/Titti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A retelling of season 3 up until 305 sees Sam and G deal with a trip to Romania, lies and secrets while trying to find a way to make their relationship work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallout

**Author's Note:**

> Art by acquiescence at http://users.livejournal.com/acquiescence_/159621.html

G roused himself out of the light doze. A glance at his watch showed only about ten minutes had passed since he'd sat down in the chair. So, he wasn't out for long. Still, he shouldn't have let himself nod off. Not there. Not in public.

Of course, he was running on empty, had been since leaving for Romania. He couldn't even remember how long it had been. Days, but it felt like weeks. (Had that been the day before or the day before that?) He hadn't done more than catch these ten minute snatches of sleep since the morning before they'd arrived on that beach. And, that was the only way he could think of it, _that beach_. Part of him was afraid to close his eyes for fear of what memories might surface, what he might see. It was worse than the summer before when he'd found and lost his sister in the span of a couple days.

He'd crossed a continent, an ocean, and part of another continent chasing after his past and hadn't managed to even pass 'Go' yet.

Although, apparently he'd had a 'Get out of Jail free' card he hadn't known he'd possessed.

The beeps and quiet murmurs of the ICU were little more than white noise at the edges of G's awareness. Just being in the waiting room made him twitch, brought back memories of two years prior when it had been him lying still and pale in a bed hooked up to an army of machines keeping his body together while his mind fought to come back from the brink of death. Then, it had been Sam in his place.

There had been no time to bring Hetty back to the States, but G knew how bad the European hospitals could be, both from a medical and security standpoint, and thanks to Director Vance, they'd been able to take Hetty to the base in Constanta. The base was one of those support bases that were really a CIA cover and that meant that no one would get in, and they could maintain their official stance that there was only one NCIS operative in the area.

Stuck in a foreign country, even if technically on American soil, G became the de fact 'In Case of Emergency' contact. He had never expected to be in this position. Sure, he had both her and Jethro listed for himself. But, he didn't have any family of his own to list. G would have expected her to list someone like Vance or maybe someone from her days in the field. Despite how close they'd grown over the years since he'd come to NCIS, he had always assumed-- No, he hadn't assumed anything because the idea was so far from a possibility he'd never actually thought about it at all.

Yet, here he was, in a hospital in Romania, awaiting for her to wake up after the surgeries to remove a bullet from her chest and repair the damaged tissue and vessels, tasked with making the decisions for her medical care that would determine if she lived or died.

Or, if he ever got the answers she'd been keeping from him for months...at least..

He wondered if Sam had felt this helpless and frustrated while he, G, had lain unconscious from his own bullet wounds.

Sam...

That night in the hotel in Prague had replayed through G's mind several times over the last few days. _No job, no team, no rules to break. It made things easier._ Sam's words came back to haunt G at his lowest points. Even as he recalled the pure pleasure of their night together, the strange feeling of being at peace for once in his life, he recalled those words and wondered if the events at the Comescu house, their apparent reinstatement by Vance, would change things. Would there still be a them now that they were back to being partners and coworkers, now that he was still a Lead Agent?

Perhaps, he was only fooling himself. He'd always been alone and maybe that was the way it was supposed to be. The only tie he still had to anything about his own family was currently so sedated she'd be oblivious to World War III if it happened. Why shouldn't Fate find a way to take this new, fragile connection away from him as well? Or, had that been his own fault for pushing this, forging ahead with the insane rescue mission that had brought him back to the very place where his blood family had been murdered?

Sighing, G stood and stretched, heading for the vending machines outside the ICU, coffee the only objective. It was going to be another long night.

* * *

Three days they had been on this base. Sam understood why they were waiting for military transport. It wasn't like they could just walk out of Romania with the body count they had left behind, but he was also pretty sure that the delay had more to do with Hetty waking up and being out of danger than any real reason for them to stay. The Director had elegantly avoided another show down with G, because they all knew that G wouldn't have left before learning that Hetty was out of danger. Knowing all of that didn't make Sam less restless and when they finally got the word that the plane was available, he went to the hospital.

Sam had avoided going to see Hetty. He got updates, but other than that, he had no interest. The woman had proven once again that her agenda was more important than the people that worked for her, whether G could see it or not. Fortunately, when he got there, Hetty was asleep. He peeked his head inside and nodded toward outside, before stepping back out and waiting for G to arrive.

G came out of the room less than a moment later, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand, a kink having started tying itself up there several hours and too few breaks ago. "Hey," he said quietly, too much time in the hush of ICU made anything louder seem wrong somehow. "Something up?"

"Vance got in touch with us. We have a plane leaving tomorrow morning," Sam said. "I've already told Kensi and Deeks. It's an Air Force plane straight to LA with a stop over in Virginia." He smirked. "I thought you'd want to know, with all the things you need to pack up."

"I might have a couple things." G's laugh at least was real, even if tired. "Hetty?"

Sam shook his head. "She wouldn't be able to take the pressure, especially with a military plane." He licked his lips, wondering if he should say more. "It's a military base, run by the CIA. She'll be fine, and you need to get back to LA."

The muscles of G's jaw clenched, but he held back the words that accompanied the action. Right. He had to get back to L.A.

Back to what he wasn't sure.

G had thought he'd found a home in OSP, a surrogate family, people to care about...even love. In the space of a week everything he'd thought he had or didn't have had been turned upside down and tossed about. The only thing he was sure of any more was that information about his family and his past was out there somewhere and the only one he could believe there was any chance of getting answers from was laying in a hospital bed in Romania.

"And if she isn't fine?" he asked finally. "If she never wakes up or gets pneumonia. She's not a young woman, Sam."

"And if she isn't, nothing you can do about it." Sam tried not to let his feelings color the discussion, focusing on the practicality of the situation. "The doctors are here, and they are the only ones who can do something now. We've done our job. We've gone over and above what's required." After finding out about Hunter and her involvement, he knew that Hetty had counted on that, putting their lives at risk once more because of her refusal to share the information she had. "Don't let emotions cloud your judgment, G. She had a mission, she played every single one of us so the mission would go the way she wanted. This is just one more of her plans, and this time, it wasn't one of us that almost died. We're back to the same crap we were months ago, except now the director wants us home, and we're going home, because there's no reason for us to lose our jobs when he's willing to pretend that nothing happened."

G raised an eyebrow. Months ago that crap had been enough to make Sam consider leaving the agency until G had talked him out of it. And, Sam had stayed for him, followed Hetty and given up his job for G. Now, they had their jobs because Vance had been willing to overlook their leaving when it became politically expedient to have 'agents' there. Sam...could G ask him to give up more? Would Sam even do it a second time? It didn't sound like it.

Pacing away a few steps, he stopped with his arms crossed and his back to Sam and Hetty's room both. The two people he'd felt the closest to just a short time ago were now the two with whom he felt the least certain of his place. If he'd ever had a place anywhere.

"Yeah," he said drily. "No reason." No reason at all not to leave his one link here while he went back to the job as if nothing had changed.

"You're not going to get your answers here, G." Sam answered even though G hadn't said it aloud. "You know her; or you should. She'll either be fine and then she'll tell you when and what she wants or she won't be fine and won't be able to tell you anything. You want to find something, we have a computer, we have Hunter and we have Vance. At least, they'll give it to you straight, even if it's not what you want to hear; she won't."

" _We_ do not have a computer," G huffed, dropping his arms as he turned around. " _Hunter_ has a computer. And, she's not going to be anymore straight with me about any of it. Hetty had her appointed as her replacement, not Vance. Do you know that while I was running around trying to find Hetty, she was in the range faking an ineptitude with guns. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm glad enough that was a lie since I'd be dead if she was as bad she pretended. But, she's been scheming from the get go as much as Hetty. There aren't..."

G stopped. Maybe he wasn't supposed to have those answers. Every time he got close, the chance was taken away again.

Yet, he couldn't find it in himself to give up.

"There aren't any answers I can trust with Hunter."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "And you can trust answers that Hetty gives you? The only way you'll get a straight answer is if Hetty dies and Vance has that laptop, because until she's alive, Hunter will wait for Hetty's say-so." He couldn't believe that he was saying this aloud. Normally, they'd be on the same page, and he didn't mean to sound as callous as he was, but it was the truth. He took a deep breath before starting again. "She's been lying to you for who knows how long; she put herself and us in danger. She won't tell you anything until she's good and ready, and losing your job over her isn't going to speed up the process. It's only going to cut you off from the best chance you have. You know I'm right, but you need to make that choice for yourself."

"Has she?" G asked. "Has she been lying to me for a long time? She keeps secrets. I know that. But, actual lies?" He shook his head helplessly. After so many years working together, trusting her with his life and his team's...he wasn't sure of anything just then. Not who or what he could trust, not who he was or thought he was.

But, whether Sam was right or he was way off, it didn't matter. There were only so many directions G could get pulled in and not tear apart. Sitting here waiting for Hetty to wake up wasn't doing anything but drive him insane. At least in Los Angeles he'd be there to keep reminding Hunter that he and his questions weren't going to go away. Eventually, he'd find his answers and he wasn't far from the point where he stopped caring who he had to go through to get them.

"Fine. Someone needs to be there to make sure you don't get into trouble."

"In this case, omissions are as good as lies." This wasn't work where national security demanded a strict need-to-know policy. This was personal and as far as he was concerned a secret was as good as a lie, but they could argue about that when they got home. "All right, I'll get your things ready and I'll come and get you when it's time."

* * *

Straight through to Los Angeles with a stopover in Virginia was still too many hours and too many transports with very little to do but think. G feigned sleeping on the way. But, he doubted anyone bought the act considering what they all knew of his sleeping habits by now. It was just as well. Since G didn't like to talk things through, he ended up rehashing problems in his subconscious while he slept and he wasn't up to seeing his mother's face just seconds before she died in his dreams.

When they finally got back to the West Coast, it wasn't until they stepped onto the tarmac and made their way out to the street that G realized he hadn't paid attention to any of the details for this trip home. Sam had dealt with Vance and G had tuned it all out. He didn't even know how he was getting to his house from there.

Or if he was going to his house.

Or if he'd be alone when he got there.

Or if he wanted to be.

As Kensi and Deeks walked away, already bickering over the merits of each one's respective plans for relaxing the rest of their time before reporting to work again the next morning, G cast a questioning look at Sam.

"Let's go home. We can order some food, real food, not those candy bars from the vending machine you've been calling meals." Sam opened the door of a taxi that was stopped at the curb. "You can stay if you want," he added before getting inside. 

"Those were high-protein energy bars," G countered with a half-smirk. "I haven't inherited Kensi's sweet tooth, yet."

The ride was quiet, both of them too paranoid to say anything of substance with a man sitting right there. The taxi left them at the address Sam had given the driver, three blocks from his house. They refused any help since they had nothing more than their duffel bags and, as soon as the car was out of sight, they walked to the house.

Inside, Sam checked all the spots that would alert him of a possible intruder. Convinced that no one ha been here, he finally relaxed, but there were still doubts going through his head. Relationships with men were still a vague concept. He knew how to act with a female lover, and he knew how to act with his male partner. He had no idea how he was supposed to act when his male partner was also his lover, and decided that falling back on their usual interaction was probably the safest course of action. "Chinese good?" That was as good as asking how G was doing as far as Sam was concerned.

"Chinese is fine if there are forks." G set his bag in its usual place by the sofa, grimacing slightly to himself when he realized what he was thinking. They'd gone through this routine a thousand times in the past. But, suddenly it seemed awkward to think of having a 'usual place' for anything of his at Sam's house. This awkwardness wasn't supposed to exist here. Sam's house was the sanctuary G retreated to when his own solitude was too much to handle. It was safe and familiar.

Only, now it wasn't.

Everything had changed since the last time he'd been here. He'd admitted his feelings to Sam, they'd quit their jobs, had sex, and gained their jobs again. What now? Did they go back to watching games on the television with a bottle of beer and pretend nothing ever happened? Did they pretend nothing happened and tried to do whatever it was people did in relationships?

Too much to think about.

Going into the kitchen, he grabbed two beers from the refrigerator, waiting for Sam to finish ordering the food before handing one to him.

Sam pocketed the phone and reached for the beer. Their fingers touched. With anyone else, it would have been a casual contact, but they'd done this too many times, knowing exactly how the other would move, and there was nothing casual, but Sam wasn't sure how else to act or what the new lines were between them. Would it be all right to hug G? He would have done it with anyone else that had gone through what his partner had, but G was... different, and he wasn't sure that having sex changed things.

"Twenty minutes they said." He kept his eyes on G, waiting for him to say anything, but deep down knowing that G wouldn't. Too many insecurities joining his position at work would stop him from making the first place. Sam couldn't blame G, because he wouldn't have said anything in G's place, which left him with this task of figuring this out. Or at least of taking the first step. "Are you going to remember some very important thing you need to do far away from here if I hug you? Or should we pretend that I didn't even ask?" 

G bit his lip, thrown by the suggestion. A hug? They didn't hug. Or, did they, now? "I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe?"

Actually, now that he thought about it, they hadn't really even touched at all since that night in Prague. A part of him was afraid if he let Sam touch him, he was going to shatter. But, another part of him was afraid Sam wouldn't even try. Setting his beer down, he stood in front of Sam and stared for a long moment, but a real answer to the question didn't seem to be forthcoming.

"Maybe you're going to leave? Maybe we should pretend I didn't say anything? Maybe something else? Maybe we should try after you've eaten something, at least you'll finally have some decent food before running out? I can come up with lots of maybes, but I-" Sam sighed. "I don't know how to do this, G. Not with a man, and not with you. I don't want to ruin our relationship." He didn't even care what the relationship was: partners, friends, lovers, or maybe he wasn't sure if the last could work out with the job they had, but the sentiment applied to all of those relationships. 

Sam put his own bottle down. "Or maybe if it's too weird you can just tell me and there's no reason to leave," he said as he moved closer and closed his arms in what had to be his most hesitant hug since his teenager years.

"Maybe," G murmured, letting Sam wrap his arms around him. "Maybe I don't know how to do this, either."

Sex had been less intimate than this, less...revealing. Sam was warm and solid and strong enough to hold up the world, G thought. It would be all too easy to let him, to let him take the weight G felt crushed by in his mind. Everything had changed and yet nothing had changed. They were still who they had been, still doing the job they had been, and now still trying to figure out what they were, while at the same time G felt like he'd lost what little foundation he'd had in his life.

If he wasn't strong enough on his own, who was he to be part of anything else?

"I'm tired." That hadn't been what he intended to say. _I'm fine._ That was what he intended to say. But, as he gave in and leaned against Sam, arms tentatively going around the other man's waist, it was the damnable truth that came out instead of the comfortable lie.

"You're home now." It wasn't physical fatigue that G was talking about, and Sam knew that without having to ask, it was mental, and now that they were back where they belonged, they could pick up the pieces and hopefully give G some sort of closure.

Sam stood there a little longer. He wasn't sure why words were so hard when they were used to discussing everything, to bantering during an op. "Okay, this is weird. Not bad, just very weird," he said, chuckling, but his arms tightened just a little to counter his words, not giving G that out that would make him run away. "We'll have to talk about this eventually, but for tonight, maybe we can stop with Chinese food and some sleep, what do you think?"

Pulling back a little, G nodded. "Stop with Chinese sounds good." He couldn't promise sleep, even to himself. "Sam..." he began, then shook his head. "Never mind. I don't even know what I'm trying to say. Beer. Couch. Waiting for Chinese."

For two agents who could talk their way into anything, they were doing a horrible job with the talking, but they were also good at changing strategy while in the game, and this seemed like the perfect moment to try something new. Sam dipped his head and kissed G, just a press of lips at the start, before teasing G's lips with short soft kisses, playing tugging at G's bottom lip. "Couch sounds good," he said after a moment.

"It does." G's agreement was muffled against Sam's lips as he responded to the kisses instinctively. This didn't require thought, just feeling. Fingers curling around Sam's hips, he pulled the other man toward the couch with him, making a game of teasing Sam in return, nipping at his lips before retreating, then doing it again.

Sam sank into the couch, knowing that this wouldn't solve anything in the long run, but unwilling to push after G's emotional turmoil of the last few days. He pulled G closer, kisses growing deeper, but still nothing more than kisses, hands glued to one spot, fisting G's shirt so hard that it might rip, but afraid to start touching. 

There were too many doubts, too many uncertainties, things that they should probably discuss, but neither seemed willing to do. Sam pulled back, trying to think of ways to have some certainties without a prolonged discussion, and coming up with one question. "Couch or bed for tonight?" The option that G would leave and be alone after the discoveries he had made was not viable. 

Of course, that was exactly G's first thought as he also pulled back, forcing his breathing back under control. One thing hadn't changed, at least. It didn't take much more than a single kiss for Sam Hanna to get G's engine running. But, he kept asking questions G couldn't answer and maybe it was just better for them both if G left, put some distance between them until they figured out where things stood now that they were not only back, but back to being agents.

G didn't want to move, though. If they were going to go back to being just friends and partners, with G leading the team and all the problems that made being involved the dumbest idea ever, he wanted one more night with Sam when he could pretend, at least, there was a chance.

And that was precisely why he did end up moving...to the far end of the couch and out of temptation's way, though not without indulging in one more kiss. He was that selfish about it. "Couch is fine." If Sam had to ask him, then Sam wasn't sure where he wanted G to be either and G wasn't about to get into Sam's bed if he wasn't sure. "Been a long day."

Sam nodded, letting go. He really should let it go, because he had asked a question and received an answer. "All right, let me go get you a pillow and blankets." He got up and got as far as the doorway. Sam wasn't one to push himself on people, but G wasn't people. Nothing about human behavior applied to him, and what he said and what he meant weren't always the same thing. He stopped and went back, standing at the opposite side of the couch.

"What exactly are we saying? Because talking without words isn't working too well," he admitted. "I gave up my job for you, not because you asked, but because I couldn't leave you alone, because I... I love you. If you want to go back to how things were, then fine; if not, then we'll have dinner and we'll go to bed and we can sleep, because it's been a long week. I told you; this isn't about sex for me."

"Sam..." G sighed. He didn't know who he was or what he was doing. What he wanted was so far from being even a glimmer on the horizon. But, he knew his own feelings were solid. He'd known it months ago when Sam had talked of wanting out of NCIS and G finally woke up with the thought of losing him. But, G also knew he hardly ever _got_ what he wanted anyway.

And Sam's words from Prague were hard to ignore. Not being agents had made it easier to be together. When they'd been agents, it had been a problem.

"If it was just about sex this would be a hell of a lot easier," he said finally. "What is it that _you_ want, Sam? Because I think I've been pretty clear from the first time I kissed you what my feelings on this subject are."

Maybe they didn't have to make this complicated. "Stay. We'll figure out the rest later." They lived covers, they lied, they could lie about this too if they had to. "And before you misunderstand that, there's a bed we can share, no talking required."

G gave a tired chuckle. Sam knew him too well. But, he didn't have the energy to keep discussing things or guessing what was going on in any aspect of his life. "Okay." He nodded. "That sounds like the best plan I've heard in days."

"Right, then we're back to food, sleep, and everything else can wait for tomorrow." They'd have plenty of time to discuss things. Tonight was not the time. Soon the delivery would be here and they could shut out the world for a few hours of earned rest.

* * *

The next day went smoother than expected. Besides the mandatory vacation time for the days that they had been away, Vance had been more than willing to ignore what they had done. In retrospect, Sam knew that there was nothing to be proud of. The people they killed might have been criminals, but they had gone into their houses and killed them without any legal right. Despite that, Sam would do it again if it meant keeping G alive. They were also not going to suffer any consequences, because it happened out of the country and they would never be connected to the shootings. No, the only consequence of the trip was that now Hunter was in charge, but Sam didn't mind as much as G did.

Sam could feel the tension coming off from his partner every time the woman opened her mouth, and he was glad when they could finally get in his car to leave for the day. He drove straight home, not asking G where he wanted to go. When they got inside, he put the keys in the tray before walking to the bedroom. "Don't leave your bag in there," he said casually.

G stared after Sam for a moment without moving to put his bag anywhere. He wasn't even certain he was staying the night yet. The night before had been awkward. Not knowing what was going on with them, he hadn't been able to relax. Not knowing who knew what about his past that would tell him, he had barely slept at all. And getting up to do something with his insomnia wasn't an option if he didn't want to disturb Sam.

Realizing he was just standing there, he followed Sam into the bedroom.

He didn't put his bag down. "I'm going to have to go check on my place eventually."

"Okay, so put the bag down, we can go out for dinner, stop at your place to make sure everything is fine, and then come back," he said, wondering if tonight was going to be another night of awkward attempts at talking.

Sam put his bag away and turned to look at G. "Or are you telling me that you want to go home? Because if we're doing this every night, we might just tape it and just play it back while we do something else." He stepped closer and put his hands on G's hips. "I thought your feelings were clear, so what's the problem?"

"They are." So why did it now seem like Sam was the one hanging on while G pushed away? Hadn't this all started because G couldn't let go, refused to lose his partner and best friend? He'd dug in his heels and they'd managed to find something, the beginning of something more than both partnership and friendship. Only, now G couldn't find it in himself to trust it.

And that was just stupid because this was Sam. If he couldn't trust Sam, who could he trust?

Who _could_ he trust?

"I don't know what I'm doing, Sam." G pulled away gently before beginning to pace the room. "With the job. With my life. With us. Is there an us? You said it was easier without the job, the team, or the rules. Would you have chosen the way you did if we still had all of that?" He stopped, turned to look at Sam. "Would the night in Prague have happened if we'd been on an official assignment, or would it have been too crazy to even consider no matter how we might feel about each other? And what about now? All of that's back, the job, the team, the rules. So, where does that leave us?"

"The job is the job. We do what they tell us when they tell us. Nothing has changed. Hetty and Hunter will continue to lie and use us, we'll continue to solve cases, and the world goes on," Sam answered, because he didn't think that was difficult to deal with.

He shrugged. "I don't know, G. Maybe it would have never happened. Maybe neither of us would have risked it. I don't know, but I don't think it matters one bit, because it happened, and now we deal with it." He moved closer and put his hands on G's shoulders, staring at him. "I've given up my job once for you, and I'd do it again in a heart beat. So we're back on the job, we make sure that Hetty doesn't find out, at least officially, and if she does, I'll transfer out, I'll change agencies, I'll go private. There are plenty of options, G. I got my military pension, get a nice second job in the private industry, I'll be more than fine. Is it my first choice? No. Do I think it's worth it? Yes, because if there has been one constant in this job, it's been my partner, and if all of your hesitations spring from the idea that I'm suddenly going to disappear on you, then- stop hesitating, because I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't know what to believe in anymore." G swallowed hard, hands coming to rest against Sam's chest as though to steady himself. "I want to believe we can make this work. But, everything's all mixed right now and you admitted last night you don't know what to do with us, either. Neither of us knows how to do this kind of relationship. You because it's a man and it's me. Me because I've never had an actual relationship that was real. Kirstin, Tracey, those weren't real and I want real this time. I want you. I want...I don't know."

Sighing, G stepped closer, face tilted up to brush his lips against Sam's. Nothing made sense to him, nothing felt right or made him feel instead of thinking. Nothing except this, kissing Sam. And, if he knew anything, he knew he couldn't resist that urge anymore, not since a week ago -- had it only been a week? -- when he'd admitted to all his insane feelings for Sam in one ranting dump of information and kissed Sam for the first time.

As long as they weren't talking, everything made sense.

Sam held him close as they kissed. It was almost too natural to stop, but they had done this the night before, and they'd do it today, and then tomorrow, until this would be just another cover. He wouldn't let that happen. He cupped G's face as he moved back. "I don't know how to do this, but I'm a fast learner, and if you want something real, then we can't keep pushing everything away with kisses and touches. It doesn't work that way, G." 

He leaned over and pressed their lips together for a brief moment. "I don't mind the kissing, but not if we use it to stop talking. I know you're hurting. I know you trust even less than normal right now, but I'm not going to break your trust. If you aren't sure, then we take it one day at a time. Isn't that what we always do anyway? But. don't run away. Let's work on this relationship, while we figure out your past together. I might not know relationships with men, but I do know relationships and part of it is to help and support each other. Let's just start there."

It really would be much easier if Sam would let them just get lost in each other for a little while. The sense of contentment G had felt that night in Prague was less than a distant memory by now. Blood and unshed tears had washed it away, buried it in pain and anger. And, G's default when in pain was to hide from it until he could pretend not to feel it any longer. What he couldn't do, however, was hide from Sam. Sam had stayed by him through every hit he'd taken in Romania and every stupid decision he'd made because he'd trusted the wrong people.

Dimly, some part of G was aware that Sam was the one he could still trust.

He just had to keep reminding himself of that. A lot.

"One day at a time. Okay. I can agree to that." It was about all he could commit to on anything, really. "Talking... There's too much. Too soon."

"Okay, then we wait, if that's what you need." They would wing it just like they always did. "Do you want to grab some burgers before we go to your place? We can eat there and then come back for the night. I don't mind your house, but I like beds. They are so comfortable to sleep on, although I was hoping for some action tonight. Unless that's too much too soon, too," he teased. 

"Going soft on me, Big Guy?" G smirked slightly. "Only burgers I'm accepting are Double Doubles, though, or the only action you're seeing tonight is part two of my lesson in how to turn your toaster into a bomb."

* * *

From May to September, things were supposed to get better, but instead they felt even more temporary than before. If for months, Sam had been unsure of his place on the team, now, it felt like G was living day by day. It was nothing overt. G wasn't a legend by showing what he really felt, but Sam knew. No matter how good the jokes were or how relaxed G's posture was, Sam could see the tension, almost a constant instinct to run away.

It was bad enough that G was so tense at work, but their relationship seemed to be going no where fast. When Sam had suggested one day at a time, he hadn't expected this sense of uncertainty, always waiting for the other shoe to drop, questioning daily if this was going to be the day that G decided that they had enough.

He understood the reasons behind all of this. With no Hetty, no laptop and no information, G had no answers. It was almost as if they had been thrown back in time to the mission with Keelson, so close to an answer just to watch it evaporate, and now the same thing was happening, but to make matters worse, the person that G had trusted the most - Hetty - was the one behind it.

"G, you need to talk to her," Sam said over a slice of pizza at the house after another day at the office, asking Hunter about the laptop.

"She said she'll get to me when it's processed," G answered, his tone indicating just what he thought of Hunter's answer.

"No, not Hunter. You need to talk to Hetty," Sam went on. "You know Hunter isn't going to give you anything without Hetty. We knew this in Romania. Those two kept things from Vance, they are a lot closer than you think. If she's not telling you, Hetty is behind it, and you need to talk to her."

G stared at Sam, one hand tapping the crust of his pizza absently against the lip of his plate.

"She's avoiding me." It wasn't so much a theory as a feeling he had. Whatever she knew -- and he knew she had to know a hell of a lot more than she'd let on, this was Hetty -- she was keeping it to herself and that was both pissing G off and making him doubt everything about the relationship he'd previously built with her. "They're playing me. There's something more about all this than either one is letting on.

"But, I don't know if I can trust any answers I do get. Not now. Not after...everything."

"She's avoiding everyone," Sam answered. "She's not stupid." Now that they were safe at home, logic was prevailing again. Everything they had done had been insane, illegal, and immoral, and yet, he'd do it again for G, not for Hetty. "She played us from start to finish. She wanted that laptop, she had Hunter undercover. She didn't even tell the Director, because you can't just go into another country and shoot people, even if they are criminals, instead, she made sure that we went after her. She knew we wouldn't leave her there. She knew _you_ wouldn't leave her there, and I wouldn't leave you."

Sam took a bite of the pizza before washing it down with his beer. "You were right about the fact that she doesn't outright lie to you. Push her, see what you get and then we investigate without telling her. At least we have something to go on, a starting point."

"Why couldn't she just tell me? If she's known ever since February, why keep me in the dark if these people were trying to kill me? If my family's involved, I have a right to know." G shook his head and tossed the pizza crust onto his plate before standing up.

He walked over to the window and looked out briefly before pacing back to where they'd been eating. After all these years, after all he'd trusted her with, he'd expected more. And, that was the problem, the real problem. He'd begun to expect more from people, connections, trust, caring, all the things he'd convinced himself were fairietales over the years. He'd started believing in the fantasy and it had come back to bite him in the ass. G had put his faith and trust in Hetty and she'd kept this from him, something that could potentially have led him to his past and his family. How much had Alexa Comescu known that was lost to G now?

"What else has she been keeping from me, Sam?"

Sam shrugged. "Anything and everything she doesn't think you need to know and the why is easy. Because she's Hetty, because she talks about trusts, but she doesn't trust us with information unless she has no choice." Thinking back to that time, G's disappearance, Moe's death, it wasn't easy. Even after months, they still felt the repercussions. "If she was in for six months before we showed up, she knew before you found that soldier," he said, softly. "The soldier, the tattoo, the connection, none of it was new information to her."

He rested a hand on G's hip. "I agree that you should know, but I don't think it makes a difference to her. Get as much as you can, and then we double check everything. We've got contacts, we can pull a few strings, and when she finds out, if she doesn't like it-" Sam shrugged. "What is she going to do? Fire us for conducting a private investigation into a private matter using private resources? We do what we have to, but you need to talk to her, before we can move forward, and I don't mean just with the case. You've been treating this relationship like it's a temporary arrangement, but I'm not her, G. I don't keep things from you; I don't lie to you. I'm the one who's been pushing you into opening up and returning the favor from the start. I understand you're hurt by what she did, but you always put too much trust in her. She's not our friend; she's our boss." 

"What exactly are you trying to say, Sam?" G's eyes darted warily to the other man's face as he backed away just a little, distancing himself from the ultimatum he heard in Sam's statement. This was the last thing he needed, for this, too, to go to hell on him. "I told you I don't know what I'm doing with these things."

But, maybe it was easier to pick a fight about them, easier to push away than to try to hold on to the true focus of his pain, a woman he'd thought he was closer to than she'd apparently let him get. Maybe it was easier than thinking about the truth of what Sam had just said -- this had started before a tin soldier full of memories ever showed up on his sister's grave.

"I haven't suddenly gone dumb. I can tell the difference between you and her. If you're not satisfied or being with me is not what you wanted it to be..."

No, he couldn't bring himself to finish that thought and put the possibility out there.

Sam closed the distance with two quick steps and cupping G's face, kissed him passionately. His hands slid down his lover's shoulders and then around G's body to rest on his back. "I'm not going anywhere, and I'm not going to let you fight your way out of a relationship because you're scared that I'll betray you too. I'm telling you that you don't seem able to commit to this, to us, because you're waiting for the other shoe to drop and you won't be able to until you talk to her. That's all I'm saying, okay? Now, let's finish dinner, let's get some sleep, because we have a hacker to find."

* * *

The next evening they raided a healing center to rescue the hacker whose son had breached DoD systems and after, while his team was having celebratory beers, G went home, back to his house. The place was still mostly unfurnished: a chair and table with a lamp in the front room, his bedroll and a few books in his room, refrigerator stocked with beer, water, and leftover takeout. But, in his mind's eye, every room was filled with ghosts and memories, children's laughter.

_She's not our friend; she's our boss._

Sam's words rang in G's head. He wasn't sure when his partner had become the voice of his conscience. Some days a little cricket singing songs might have been easier to deal with, G thought.

G spent the night walking the rooms, analyzing the intel he knew and the intel he suspected. His life had turned into the case, his mind the crime scene. How long had Hetty been looking? How long had Hunter been digging into things G had a right to see for himself? Was this the reason Hetty had bought him this house? Did this go all the way back to Keelson? He'd told G he should be asking why. Was the blood feud of the Comescues the why? Was there more? He'd seen his mother get shot. What of his father? Was his father still out there leaving notes on his sister's grave? Why didn't his father seek him out?

By the end of the night, he had no more answers than he had started out the evening with and only one solid resolve: He needed to see Hetty.

 

"I'm tired of this bullshit," he announced from the doorstep when he arrived at Sam's the next afternoon. Freshly showered and changed, G had gone to see Hetty that morning. They weren't due into the office because of how late they'd worked for the raid the night before and he needed to get out of this stalemate he was in, stuck between Hunter and Hetty. But, if he had hoped to find answers, he left Hetty's more disappointed and hurt than he had arrived. And he didn't know where else to go for solace but to Sam, the one person who was still on G's side in all this mess.

"I have a right to know why a crime family in Romania wants me dead, why they murdered my mother in front of me, without her damned loyalty games. This isn't a game! It's my life! My family! I don't need Hetty or Hunter or anyone else to track down the answers for me. I can find them on my own without either of them! We left more than a few of them alive. I'll go back to Romania and get my answers from the Comescues if I have to, damn it! There's got to be something on that laptop. It was supposedly sent for analysis. If Eric doesn't know, maybe Nell does. Maybe Abby. Hunter keeps telling me to ask Vance; maybe it's in D.C. I can call Gibbs, see if he can snoop around for me. Or, maybe I should just go straight to the Director myself. What's he going to do? Fire me? I've already quit! He's the one who decided I merely forgot my damned badge in the first place. 'You're a long way from home, Agent Callen.' Was I, really? For my protection, she says. For my own good. We may be valuable assets to this agency and it may be her job to protect its assetts, but I'm perfectly capable of protecting myself. I did it for years before I came to NCIS and I can do it for years after. Keeping information about my family from me isn't protecting me!"

"It shouldn't be _my_ loyalty that's in question!" G slammed his fist into the wall. "Am I even an American citizen? I was born in Romania. That's probably why the Eastern European languages and culture have always appealed to me and come easily. It's where I come from. Who knows how I ended up here? I don't even know my own name, let alone what country I really belong to. And, yet, it's my loyalty that's in question if I don't trust her to keep my family's secrets from me?"

Sam let G rant, while he went to the fridge and grabbed a bag of frozen peas. Returning, he trapped G's hand between his and the peas. He knew the punch hadn't been that bad, but at least it gave him something to do, something that would keep them close. "She plays mind games and psychs you out. She's always done it, and you let her. It's like that time with the rock climbing. You're a much better climber than she is, but she takes her time, psychs you out until you can't climb a wall you've climbed a million times. This isn't that much different. She takes her time, she puts you in the defensive, and then you're the one who backs down."

He'd watched the two of them play this game too many times, and usually he'd stayed on the sidelines, teasing G when she managed to get the best of him, but this was too important to stand aside. "We're not going to Romania, just yet. I've already skipped my cruise with my kids; I'd like some vacation time to spend with them. Let's try easier, safer and closer to home solutions first, okay?"

Leaning down, Sam kissed him. "If you grew up hearing the Romanian language, then it makes sense that you can speak so many other languages. It's close to both Eastern Europeans, but also to the Romance languages in terms of sound. A child's palate is formed early on and that's what gives you the right diction. Also if you're found in the US when you are young enough and become a ward of the state, you are considered an American citizen regardless of where you were born." He shrugged. "I might have looked into that already. We'll look into other things as well. As you said, Eric has to have had access and if not, maybe we can call Abby. Eric is afraid of Hetty; Abby is not. We'll get to the bottom of this." No amount of phone calls would get them what Hetty knew, though, and it was time that Sam paid her a visit as well.

"Might have?" Despite his frustration, G grinned as he looked up from where Sam was taking care of his hand. It amused him how much of a mother hen the big, intimidating SEAL could be when he wanted to...which seemed to be often where G was concerned. He'd often taken for granted that Sam would be there to save his ass in the field. But, he'd never yet gotten used to being taken care of like this. "I had the answers in my hand, Sam. I had the answers in my hand and all I had to do was open the envelope. But, I couldn't. She said I could open it if I didn't trust her and I...I gave it back unopened. I don't know if I have the strength to burn that particular bridge without knowing what she knows." If ever...

"For all I know, it could have been an empty envelope, the 'to be opened in case of my death' a red herring." He knew Sam was right. He let Hetty play him all the time and told himself it was because they had a different relationship than she had with the others. And, maybe they did and that was why he let her get away with these things. But, he couldn't help feeling as if he would lose something important if he broke from her completely.

At the very least it would affect the job.

He snorted softly. "I don't think Abby's afraid of much."

Pulling his hand from between Sam's, he pressed his cold knuckles to the warm skin just under his partner's jaw. "Every time I come over lately, we talk about this. Time to change the subject. You were Team 2, right? So, this probably isn't even cold enough to phase you, right?"

Sam filed away the details about the envelope. G might not open it, but Sam had no problems doing it. He didn't have to trust Hetty the same way G did. He had put a certain distance since Moe, and even before their relationship wasn't the same. 

"We can talk about something else," he answered. His eyes were fixed on G, but his mind was on the conversation he was going to have with Hetty. "Yes, I was with Team 2, and no, this isn't cold," he added with a smile. "Are you going somewhere with this?"

"Maybe." G smirked. "Maybe not."

Taking the package of peas away, he put it back on his knuckles as he walked away, back toward the kitchen. He was in a weird mood and Sam was likely going to take the brunt of it. He hopped up onto the counter and started rummaging idly through one of Sam's drawers. No real purpose, just something to do. As he cradled his hand against the peas with his knee, he looked up to see if Sam had followed.

"Come here." He held out the hand with the peas. "It's easier when you do it."

Sam didn't think that G had needed the frozen pea to began with, and now he definitely didn't, but if this was going to be the excuse they used so Sam could take care of him, he'd go along. He came to stand before G's legs and reached for the bag, using to soothe G's knuckles. "Anything else? Because I have other ways to make things better and none include frozen vegetables."

"Do you?" Pausing his perusal of Sam's kitchen utensils, G raised his eyes back to Sam's. Amusement lit up his eyes as he recalled how hesitant Sam had been before, even if the Big Guy would never admit it. "I'm all ears. How can you make things better without frozen vegetables, Agent Hanna? I mean, the frozen vegetables are highly versatile, and tasty. Very handy for a myriad of pastimes."

Sam snorted. "I want to know what you do with your vegetables considering that you don't cook." He highly doubted that G even bought frozen anything. That would require plates and bowls and forks, leading to settling down. "I can tell you one sure way that helps, though." He took away the pack and brought G's hand to his lips, kissing each knuckle, before focusing his gaze on G's face. "Is it better yet?"

G bit his lip, eyes holding Sam's gaze. "Mm, feels a _little_ better." He ran his tongue over his lip, contemplating how far he could push. Though they'd sort of mentioned boundaries and G's complete lack of them that first night, G had the impression there were still a few things in his repertoire that would shock his partner. But, small steps... "You really want to see what I do with frozen objects?" he asked finally, voice dropping into a low husk.

Contrary to popular belief, SEALs had a sense of self-preservation. They knew their strengths and weaknesses, and acted accordingly. Sam could tell that he was walking on dangerous ground now, because the relationship part of things was easy, but the sound in G's voice told him that they were veering off into something else. 

He leaned closer and pressed his lips against G's, tugging on his bottom lip, before pulling back. "I should know better." He nodded. "But, I still trust you."

"I'll be gentle," G teased, stealing a quick nip at Sam's lip before sliding off the countertop. The motion brought him into close contact with firm muscle and a slow grin graced his features as he stared up at his partner...his lover. "Couch. Go get comfortable. I'll be right there."

Sam wondered when it had become so easy to be close to each other, touching in ways that hadn't been alright before. He couldn't say he minded one bit, despite his inexperience with same-sex relationships. "Couch. That sounds safe enough," he answered with a lopsided smile. He couldn't resist kissing G again, before going back into the living room and sitting on the couch. Whatever G had in mind, it had to be better than rehashing their trip to Romania and everything that came from it.

When G joined him, he brought a tumbler full of ice chips with him. Though he could probably have made use of the peas, the ice was just a little less out of left field. He hadn't wanted to veer too far from the standard bed, skin, fuck since they got back from Romania, still unsure of whether Sam was going to wake up one morning and realize he was involved with his male partner and how wrong that was by pretty much every rule the man had ever lived by. But, if this wasn't a temporary arrangement, as Sam had insinuated the other night, maybe they could have a little fun. Or at least, test the waters with a very, very small deviation from 'normal'.

Setting the tumbler on the table nearby -- making sure to use a coaster in deference to his partner's sensibilities -- G moved to sit astride Sam's thighs. He reached for Sam's shirt to pull it over his head. "Anything you don't like, we stop, okay?"

Sam was amused when G returned with the ice. He wasn't a prude by any definition, but since finding his faith, he had lived by a different set of rules, and certainly those rules didn't include men. However, that didn't mean that he had no idea what people did, still he was going to have fun watching G go through anything he had planned. "I can handle that, but only if you take your shirt off as well. Quid pro quo."

"Quid pro quo?" G repeated, tapping his chin thoughtfully. There were so many ways he could twist that. But, he wouldn't. Not yet. "If that's how you want to play it."

Shrugging carelessly, he unbuttoned the first few buttons before pulling his own shirt the rest of the way over his head. Then, he leaned over to kiss Sam softly, feathering his jaw and lips with light brushes of his lips. His hands smoothed over Sam's chest as lightly as his kisses, teasing. Returning to Sam's lips once more, he deepened the kiss, exploring the warmth of Sam's mouth thoroughly as he reached blindly for the tumbler and removed a small sliver of ice. He broke the kiss only long enough to place the ice on his tongue before resuming his exploration.

The dual sensation of cold and heat sent shivers down Sam's spine, and he pulled G closer against his chest. All of his doubts disappeared when G started to kiss him. It was natural and familiar, almost like coming home. "Mmm, not sure it works so well with peas," he teased, before kissing G again.

This came too easy, which was in contract to the rest. He still had his insecurities when it came to sex, but they were working through those, and G never pushed, never made him feel uncomfortable, even if he wanted to give G more. 

Sam pushed that aside and focused on the kiss again, on the feel of G's chest against his. "I want you." Despite everything, he had no doubt about that.

"Right here," G murmured.

With a wicked smirk, he gave Sam's lip one last tug before sitting up and reaching for another piece of ice. This time, when he put it to his mouth he only sucked on it briefly, then pulled it from his between his lips, just enough heat to start it melting slowly. Eyes never leaving Sam's he drew the cold chip in a line down the center of Sam's chest, outlined each chiseled muscle, drew lazy circles over his stomach. When he grew tired of teasing, he traced icy circles around each nipple, then leaned over to replace the ice with his mouth.

Sam had expected another kiss, but he chuckled when he saw what G had in mind . "You're in that kind of mood. I see how it is. " He could be talking about anything, but the look he gave G said a different story. Pure heat answered that cold teasing. It wasn't until G's mouth closed around his nipple that he closed his eyes and threw his head back, a low moan showing his appreciation. 

The mood was infectious and being comfortable became imperative. He put an arm around G to avoid dislodging him as he began sliding down the couch, lying down with his head on the arm rest. "This might help with your demonstration."

Laughing, G caught himself with one hand so he wouldn't lose his balance when their position shifted. "It might."

He placed a sloppy kiss to first Sam's lips, then his jaw, while he reached for a fresh piece of ice.

G spent several minutes drawing patterns in ice on Sam's skin, then tracing over them with his tongue. Lazy circles, cold dots, he even followed the lines of ink decorating his partner's arms, first in ice, then his tongue, sometimes alternating between them at random. When this piece of ice was little more than a tiny sliver, he dropped it into Sam's belly button. Following with his tongue once more, he continued nip at the cold skin around it, rimming Sam's belly button slowly and thoroughly until he was satisfied he'd warmed the skin sufficiently once more.

"You're over dressed for the rest of this demonstration," he whispered against damp skin, his hands moving to the fastenings of Sam's pants.

"I didn't know there was a dress code for your demonstrations." It was this banter, this easy back and forth that made it easier, that allowed Sam not to tense up when there was no room to deny the reality of what they were doing. "We need to get a bigger couch if you plan more demonstrations," he said while his hands moved over G's shoulders. His tone was calm, but his eyes were trained on G, not missing a single movement, and when his pants were open, he raised his hips so that G could pull his clothes down. "I thought we said quid pro quo."

"Hm, I vaguely recall making that deal." G was trying not to think too hard about Sam's use of the word 'we' in relation to buying furniture for his place, even if only a couch upon which to have their wicked ways with each other. Small steps.

Or, no steps, as that was what was required to unfasten his jeans and push them down his hips before wiggling out of them without ever having to get off the couch.

Kneeling now, a little awkwardly, between Sam's legs, G fished another chunk of ice out of the tumbler and sucked it into his mouth. He sat back on his heels for a moment, taking his time melting the ice on his tongue and looking his fill at the man laid out before him. They'd been circling each other, taking things one day at a time since May. This wasn't the first time he'd seen his partner naked. And, it didn't matter. It still took his breath away as much now as it had that night in Prague.

Smiling softly, he pushed the ice between his lips with his tongue and bent over Sam's body once more. While his hands slid over the hot, firm muscles of thighs G well knew the power of, he returned his attention to Sam's stomach. This time, he used the ice, slowly pressing it into Sam's belly button then sucking it back into his own mouth. Then circling the edge and pressing in again. Over and over until the ice was just a thin sheet in his mouth.

Without giving a warning, he moved further down and took Sam's cock into his mouth, swirling the ice around the head with his tongue.

Sam tried to move back to give G more room. "A big sectional," he muttered, because this couch was not made for two men of their size, at least not when they were having sex, but the thought was short-lived. All too soon thoughts were replaced by sensations as G continued to use the ice to create those contrasting feelings that had him hard even before G took him into his mouth and when he finally did, Sam stopped thinking completely.

"Fuck-" He cupped G's head, trying very hard not to move his hips, while his other hand moved over his lover's body. "That feels… ." Words weren't his friends at the moment. So many witty comments and they were all gone, leaving him a speechless mess as G licked and sucked until he was aching, ready to beg for more.

G continued to work his tongue over Sam's entire length until the ice had completely melted away, leaving nothing but a lingering and momentary coolness. His fingers were still slick with water as he played with Sam's sac, rolling and caressing. For a moment he hesitated, but as he worked his mouth over and over, keeping his eyes on Sam and the expression of utter abandonment he wore, G dare the risk of trailing one finger to gently brush over the sensitive skin just behind his lover's balls. Softly, just back and forth, before he continued further and very lightly traced the tight ring of muscle at Sam's entrance. Just that much, not pushing, no penetration. Just barely teasing for the briefest of moments.

Pulling his finger back, he took all of Sam into his mouth at the same time, opening his throat and swallowing around the head, then sliding back before doing it again.

If words were scarce before, they were impossible to form now. Moans of pleasure was all that Sam could muster as G did his best to drive him crazy, manipulating his body with skilled ease. There was a hint of tension as he felt a finger against his opening, but he relaxed again when G made no move to push farther. Even that became irrelevant as G-

_Fuck!_

Was that even possible? G was deepthroating him, going down on him like a pro, and yes, Sam was aware that it was indeed possible, but it certainly had never happened to him, and it felt so damn good. Things like 'more', 'fuck', 'close' kept spilling from his mind, while a small part of him wondered how G had gotten so good, but he pushed that thought to the back of his mind.

Every sound Sam made stoked G's own arousal even higher until he began to wonder if it was really possible to come just from giving someone else such intense pleasure. With a single-minded focus he rarely let anyone see, he set about pushing Sam over that edge into ecstasy, pulling off almost all the way before taking him deep once more. Every so often, he'd brush his finger over Sam's opening again, still just a teasing graze, one more sensation added to the mix.

G wanted to taste Sam's pleasure so badly, he forgot about everything else but driving him higher and higher toward that release.

The intensity grew until Sam wasn't sure that he could survive one more second under this assault. Even the few words he had managed before turned into grunts and moans. He squeezed G's shoulder in a silent warning as pleasure overwhelmed him, the tingling spreading through his body making him come in G's mouth with a force he'd rarely experienced. 

Sam breathed heavily as the silence reigned over the room. "G-" He knew words would be needed, but it was too soon and his brain had yet to engage.

Releasing softening flesh with one last flick of his tongue, G crawled up until he was laying over Sam. The damp trails left behind by the ice had mostly dried, but left his partner's skin cool and soothing to the flush still flooding G's body.

"I don't deserve you," he murmured against Sam's lips before kissing him softly.

Sam put one arm around G, as they kissed, smiling against G's lips. "That should be my line. Fuck, G... that was amazing." He shifted to his side, trapping G against the couch, while his hand moved over G's side stopping at his hip. He was so bad at this, he knew that, but it wasn't the lack of experience that bothered him, but the fact that mentally it still felt weird and that stopped him from giving G what he deserved.

"I... I love you," he said as his fingers closed around G's cock and began to fist him. He might not always show it, especially when it came to sex, but he'd do anything for G, and he hoped that it made up for his shortcomings.

Groaning, G brought his hands up to steady himself against Sam's chest before pressing his forehead to Sam's shoulder and giving himself up to sensation. He might have more experience doing this with men, but G was certain he'd never experienced this with anyone else the way he did with Sam. Maybe it was because he knew this was a first for Sam. Until G had blurted out his feelings last May, Sam had never considered doing what they were doing now with a man. But, he was trying now. For G.

It was both a humbling and exhilarating thought.

Whatever the reason, nothing had ever felt so right before as even the most hesitant of touches from Sam.

With those thoughts in his mind along with the recent rush from making Sam come completely undone, it took an embarrassingly short time before G came with a shudder, Sam's name on his lips. 

Sam held G tight, putting both arms around him, uncaring of the mess they were making. There were so many things that he wanted to say, but there was always that fine line between lovers and partners. "Not sure I want to try this with frozen peas," he said instead, with a smirk on his face. 

"That's not what I do with the peas," G returned, deadpan. He grinned a second later. "But, we can always try that another time." It wasn't much. He was trying not to run away. He pushed and pulled and poked. But, Hetty had been right about one thing, whether she knew the truth or not.

Sam was his anchor and G would keep coming back eventually.

* * *

The weekend was the perfect time to do what he had planned. He was going to meet the children, which meant that he didn't have to come up with a lie for why he needed to be alone. However, the trip to his ex had a stopover at Hetty's house. 

Sam scouted the place, before going into the garden. He watched as she put an envelope inside a briefcase, closed and locked the briefcase, before she went inside with her tea cup on her hand. He always said that tea could be lethal.

He walked into the yard and looked at the briefcase. With time, he could guess the number combination or he could pick it, but he wasn't interested in subtle. He pulled out a knife and picked up a rock to break the latches. He took the envelope and moved away to open it and read it, but he didn't go too far. He knew how long it would take Hetty to brew her tea and was prepared for her return. He didn't miss the way she tensed when she saw the briefcase. "Lousy security you have here. People could get killed."

Hetty didn't turn around. "You could have rung the bell. It would be unfortunate if you were hurt."

Sam moved the chair around so he could sit and look at her. "Cold war operative versus SEAL. I'd like to see that," he said calmly. He put the envelope on top of the closed briefcase with the report out. "You have a week to tell G everything that's in there. Granted, there are lies in there, because you are unable to write the truth, or tell it, but you will tell him what's there or I will."

Hetty sat down calmly. "Did you consider asking before breaking into my personal property?" Sam snorted and she and tilted her head, eyes narrowing on him. "You don't trust me."

Sam smiled. "No even one bit," he answered. "There was a time that I thought you cared about the important things. Sure you can be ruthless, but it was always about the mission, about the country. Remember when you asked me if loyalty to the team was more important than loyalty to the country, and I agreed with you. We are better than the people we chase because we serve our country. I was angry about Moe, but I understood why you were doing, why we made sacrifices to protect the country, and then you decided to go rogue. You went into a foreign country and murdered people in cold blood. Worse, you forced G to do the same, because you knew that when he found out, and he would, that you were doing it for him, then he'd come after you, but you weren't doing it for him or the country. You were doing it for yourself and in the process you turned all of us into murders."

He played with the edges of the report while he looked at her. Nothing in his body betrayed the tension and anger he felt, but it was there, together with a healthy dose of suspicion and he made sure that he had easy access to his gun, although he was better off with pure strength in this case. "You were lucky with G and Kensi. Mace picked them but they were perfect for you. No family, no friends, the team is everything. Then you picked Dom and Deeks, one young and inexperienced with no ties to the city and the other with no ties at all. You can play your act as the kind leader, the one who cares and they all want that family so badly that they don't see that you're playing them, that you have your own code, in which the country comes before them, but you come before the country. Not so lucky with me, were you? It's why they get the heart-to-heart and I get discussions about anchors, but I'm not jealous. what I am is protective of my team. Don't screw with them or you'll have to deal with me." He stood up and tapped on the brief case. "A week, Hetty."

"You made quite the threats, Mr. Hanna," she said calmly. "It's not like you."

Sam leaned down, on hand on the table as she stared at him with a smile on his face. "I might have my code, but I've violated plenty of those rules for G; I've become a murderer to protect him. Once the line is crossed, it's easy to do it again, but I'm not you. I'm not interested in revenge or hurting anyone. I want to protect my friends, and getting you out of OSP is all I need." He straightened up and started to walk off. "Enjoy your tea, before it gets too cold."

Hetty waited until he was gone, before opening her phone and dialing. "Lauren, hello, it's Hetty. The Winslow mission? Time to set it up."

"How soon?" Hunter answered. "Today?"

"Monday should suffice, Dear," she said calmly.

"You're finally ready to come back." The smile was clear even over the phone.

"Yes, I am." Hetty leafed the sheets of the report with her thumb while she stared to the point where Sam had disappeared. "I planned to make some order of things, but I might have discovered a lot more." She shook her head. "Never mind that, there is something else I need you to do."

"Anything, Hetty," Hunter said.

"Switch their partners. Sam with Deeks and Callen with Kensi," Hetty told her.

"Are you sure?" Hunter asked, surprised. "They work very well this way."

"I know, but they need to know that the team comes before their partners," she answered.

"Good luck with that," Hunter answered, laughing, "but I'll do what you say. See you soon, Hetty."

"Indeed, you will." Hetty closed the phone and stared in front of her. Decisions were made, now she would have to deal with the consequences. It was business as usual.

* * *

Sam was pissed. Not just angry, but furious. He had been partnered with Deeks, sent undercover without G, almost got killed and almost blown up. The last two weren't exactly knew for him, but for once, he really thought that he was about to die. Maybe because G wasn't around, or because it had been closer than in a lot of occasions, but he really thought that he was about to die and was looking forward to going home and be with G.

He should have known better!

He didn't think for a moment that Hetty's appearance was random. She had picked the exact moment to return, but Sam wouldn't give her the satisfaction of showing her that he was angry. Instead, he hang out in the background, letting her talk to G, but as soon as he heard the words 'Forgive me', Sam couldn't take it anymore.

He approached them and put a hand on G's back. "Let me drive you home."

For his part, G didn't look up at the touch of Sam's hand. He just kept staring at Hetty. But, he couldn't find a voice to answer either one of them. If he tried to speak now, he didn't know what would come out. He was desperately afraid it would be a sob and the last thing he intended to do was fall apart in the middle of the office.

After a few seconds just sitting there, he finally nodded and stood up, not looking back or saying a word to Hetty. To her credit, she didn't speak, either.

When they got to the bullpen, however, G stopped before he picked up his bag and turned to Sam. He wasn't ready to talk and he knew once he set foot inside Sam's house the carefully held walls would crumble. They were eroding even as he stood there. "Later? An hour. Maybe two. I... I really need to hit something right now."

Sam stared for a moment, biting his lip , deciding what to say. _I need you, too_. But he was used to putting G's past and all that came with it before his own needs. He nodded tensely. "I'll do my report. There's plenty to catch up on. I'll be here when you're ready."

G hadn't expected Sam to wait for him. He could have gone home and G would have met him later. But, when he said he'd be there, G stopped. Taking another look, he could see the tension in the other man's stance. Most people wouldn't. But, they'd worked together too long, known each other for too long.

This day had sucked. The end had sucked even more. Why couldn't anything ever just be easy between them again? For longer than five minutes before someone else, some new problem, had to throw them out of sync again?

"Thirty minutes," he compromised. There was too much bottled up inside him. He'd be no good to anyone, least of all Sam if he didn't find a release for it and this was too violent for sex to do it. That might be G's favorite method of running away these days, but the mood he was in...it just wouldn't be good for either of them. Someone would get hurt. Maybe not physically, but someone would get hurt.

Sam shook his head, because there was no sense in both of them being tense. He knew how a punching bag could make things better, and he wouldn't take that away from G. "Don't worry about it. Take all the time you need. I'll be here." There was so much more that he wanted to say, but he was aware that Hetty was sitting not too far away and he knew that she'd be watching and listening to every word they said. "Go. I have plenty of things to do here." He clapped G's arm. His eyes went to Hetty for a moment, before deciding that they had shown more they should, and he returned to his desk, booting up his laptop again. He might as well use the time to do something productive.

* * *

The ride home was quiet. There was too much going on and if they started talking too much would come out, and that was not a discussion that they should have in a car. Inside, Sam put his bag away, before going to the fridge and grabbing two beers. He handed one to G and sat down on the couch. "Feeling better?"

Taking the beer with a murmured 'thanks', G shrugged. He cracked the beer open and walked to the window, checking the street automatically. He was still tied up, though he didn't feel so violently out of control of himself. Somehow, it didn't feel better.

"Kensi wanted to know my favorite food," he said, turning to lean against the wall by the window. He smirked. "You tell her to try talking and sharing when she asked how to handle me?"

Sam snorted. "I told her to watch your back and that you were fine. I don't set up people to fail. Did you tell Deeks he needed to be the Alpha?" That could only have come from G. Deeks wouldn't have had the balls otherwise. "And your favorite food is anything I remind you to eat, although you can never go wrong with a good steak." 

"The Alpha?" G laughed and took a pull from his beer. "Is that where he took that? I told him to let you drive, but he didn't believe that was enough. I might have said something after that about gaining your respect by showing you he was comfortable taking charge." And only Deeks would have gone with 'the Alpha' as the word choice for that. G just shook his head.

"Maybe tomorrow we'll have our real partners back." He wasn't going to hedge his bets, though. If anything, he'd learned that afternoon exactly why it was foolish to trust most people.

"We will." Sam knew that Hetty had been making a point with this, because he didn't think Hunter did anything without Hetty's say so, and now the point was made and they'd go back to normal, or as normal as things ever were with Hetty. "I... I would have died without my partner today." Sam took a swig, draining half of the bottle before putting it down. "Can you sit down?"

"Not happening on my watch." G stared at Sam for a long moment before pushing away from the wall. He set his beer next to Sam's, then joined his partner, _his_ partner, on the couch.

So much to say, so much that had gone through his head, so much that had happened with Hetty, but the moment that G sat down, Sam didn't want to talk. Instead, he cupped G's cheek and kissed him, getting lost in the taste of G's mouth, never wanting to pull away, but knowing that the end would come all too soon.

He pressed their foreheads together, their lips still brushing. "I thought- It wasn't fear; it was regret. Not enough time together, too much I hadn't told you." Secrets that he had kept to protect G's relationship with Hetty.

Swallowing hard, G closed his eyes, brushed his lips across Sam's. He didn't want to think about how close he'd come to losing Sam...again. One or the other he could have dealt with moderately well. But, not having Sam there with him in the field, having only one ignored command between him and Sam dying? Then Hetty's admissions right on the heels of finding out he'd been chasing ghosts all day? It was too much to handle all at once.

To move without breaking the contact they had was challenging at best, but somehow G managed to twist around until he could straddle Sam's lap while staying as close as they were. "Not on my watch," he repeated softly. "They can send me on all the wild goose chases they like, but when it counts, I'll be the one at your back. Hell or high water. Orders be damned."

Sam closed his arms around G. This had been what he had needed since it had happened. He needed to be just the two of them, touching G, reassuring Sam just by being there. "I know. I trust you." It was never that. Sam had complete trust in G, but sometimes things happened and you couldn't get there in time. It happened whether you were in Fallujah or LA. "I'm just glad you're here."

"It should have been me there." Pulling back just enough he could look into Sam's eyes easily, G shook his head. "I should have been the one backing you up there. Not chasing legends so that Hunter can go play super spy in Europe. We should have brought Winslow in the way I said. I promised you, after Moe, I wouldn't leave you high and dry again and they made me break that promise."

Wrapping his arms around Sam's shoulder, G leaned into the other man, pressed his face to the curve of Sam's neck where he could feel that reassuring pulse. "I'm not losing you."

Sam held him tighter. "This wasn't your fault. She didn't make you do anything. This wasn't about you at all. This was about me." He should have known it from the way Hunter had singled him out. There was always something more when Hetty was involved. "She was making a point, and she might have rattled me a little, but she's not getting the effect she expected." If this was meant to intimidate him, Hetty had picked the wrong strategy. If anything, it made him angry and more determined than every to protect G and the rest of the team.

He put his hands on G's shoulders and pushed him back enough that he could look at G. "I went to her place and opened that envelope, and told her that if she didn't tell you, I would. She had until the end of the week, but I guess she was afraid that I wouldn't wait. I might have said that if she keeps screwing with you or the team, I would make sure that she's out of NCIS. There were threats on both sides. I guess she was proving that she can make good on her promises. I'm sorry; I should have told you immediately, but I didn't want to take this from you. I know she means a lot to you, but I can't keep quiet and watch her play you. 'Forgive me'? The woman has balls."

"You threatened Hetty." G could do nothing but stare, his brain not quite able to curve around the idea. Sam had threatened Hetty. Sam had threatened Hetty to make her tell G the truth. He wasn't sure if he should be more pleased or horrified by what his partner had done. "You threatened Hetty and read the contents of that envelope in her briefcase? The one on my family?"

G pushed away and slid off Sam's lap. Rubbing a hand over his face, he paced the room. He couldn't believe Sam had done something like that. For him. Yet, at the same time, a part of him felt cheated that even Sam had found out the truth before he had. He'd been playing catch-up on his own genealogy for years and it still seemed like everyone knew where he came from but him. "I can't burn that bridge, Sam. This is the most I've ever learned about who I am, where I come from. I don't...I don't know that I can ever really trust her again. Forgiveness?" He just shook his head. "But, I can't risk losing the only real connection I've been able to find in all the years I've been looking.

"And I don't want to lose you because she's decided you're a problem. Fuck, Sam, if I'd listened to Hunter today and held my position..." His vision was growing watery again, as it had while he was sitting at Hetty's desk listening to her tell him about his mother, and he looked away from Sam, hiding the weakness. "Checkers, not chess. They played a game and aborted the rescue mission for my mother and I watched her get killed on that beach. I've been playing the game for years and still got blindsided like this. Don't play her games on my behalf. I can't lose you, too."

"I'm not asking you to burn any bridges. If that was what I wanted, I wouldn't have made you that deal months ago. I wouldn't have gone to her house, broke into her briefcase and pushed her into telling you. I could have just sat back and waited for her to push you too far," he said, sighing. "I thought keeping that from you was the best thing, but I can't, because you mean more to me than you'll ever know. You've been more than a partner for years; I've just been too blind to see it, but despite of all of that, I'm not playing this game because of you. I'm playing this game because of the job and the team. She has made everyone believe that she's this caring woman that would do anything for _our_ team, but she's... she's turned every single one of us into murderers. I can't forget that, and she needs to know that someone will make sure we don't go over that line again. She knows none of you will, so it's up to me."

Sam stood up and put a hand on G's shoulder, squeezing gently. "You didn't listen. You didn't play the game and you were there in time. We will make it through this, G. You and I. You have my back and I have yours, it's how it works; it's how we work. I know trust isn't easy, especially after what happened, but trust us. Six months ago, you were the one asking me to trust us. I'm asking you the same thing now. Let's do this together."

"Five years, Sam. Five years I've worked with her and this whole time she's known who I am, who my mother was, my grandfather. How... How do I come back from that?"

Sam shook his head. "You don't. She's going to play the game whether we want to play or not, so it's time to play good cop/bad cop, the NCIS version. You let me play bad cop and you see what you can get." He didn't like it; it went against everything he believed in, but this was G and he would do anything to get him the answers he needed. "There's more to this story. We both know that, and now we have to figure out what and how much she knows."

His emotions less likely to escape his control again, G finally looked back up at his partner. Whatever answers he was looking for in those dark eyes, G wasn't sure he knew the questions he was asking. But, something he saw there eased the knot in his gut. Stepping closer, he cupped the back of Sam's head with his hand and drew their foreheads together with a tired sigh. "This isn't who you are, Sam. You're the man with higher ideals and a sense of honor that humbles me most days. You're not the ruthless player in this game willing to play until he wins at all costs. Don't become that man. Take care of our team. But, let me deal with Hetty. This is a dance between her and me, now."

G tilted his face up to kiss Sam softly. "I will forfeit the game before I let you forfeit who you are to play it."

"G, we gave up who we are the moment we went into a foreign country, without any agency approval, into private property and killed people for personal reasons," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not going to let it got that far again, but I'm not going to pretend that I will not step on everything and everyone to keep you safe. We'll get you the answer you need, and in the meantime, I will curb her, whether she likes it or not. Between the two of us, we should be able to protect Kensi and Deeks."

G looked down with a sigh. "If it had been the same, the same situation, but she hadn't played us," he asked, looking back up at his partner. "If she'd sincerely gone for the reason she led us to believe, she was protecting me without any other game, would you still say I'd given up who I was by going to bring her back? I don't think I was ever as good a person as you seem to believe. I wish I was. You deserve that person. But, I told you that night in Prague, there was no higher purpose; it was completely personal. And, I knew going in what we would likely do there. I was prepared to do it anyway to save someone I considered family. Does the fact she played me so thoroughly really make that much of a difference?"

"I've always known what we were doing. It didn't matter why she was there, or why she didn't tell you before, or why we couldn't have a plan. I wasn't there for her," Sam said. "I was there because you were. End of story. That was my higher purpose, making sure that you stayed alive. You are the one thing- the one person, who's more important than anything else. I wasn't going in blind and no, the fact she played _us_ is irrelevant."

Sam sighed. "It would be so easy to blame her for everything, but I can't do that either. She put things in motions, she forced our hands and we made our choices. We all did, and we have to live with that choice. I just don't want it to happen again. One time can be a mistake. Twice-" He shook his head. "Then we really need to think about retiring."

His mouth opened, but G couldn't seem to find any words to express how much worse that made it. He'd chosen to follow Hetty, to go against Vance's orders, and because of his feelings for G, Sam had followed him. G had led his team exactly where Hetty had wanted them and, they'd followed for him the same way he'd gone there for her. He, G, was the reason Sam looked upon them all as murderers now and that was even harder to swallow than what they'd done.

"I guess you hadn't heard," he said bitterly, pulling away to resume pacing. "It's in my blood, agency, blood feud, killing, and all."

Sam sighed, impatiently. "Stop it, all right? I'm not interested in the bullshit she gave you. No one has anything in their blood. She's still trying to reel you in, trying to make you think that this is the way it has to be. We've gone down this road with Moe, and I'm not willing to do it again. We can't change what happened in Prague, but we can make things better. We don't have to do much, in fact. We keep doing our job, we do it the way we're supposed to, and we look into your past in our free time."

"Well, I am. Mixed in with that bullshit is some kernel of truth that I can't get anywhere else and I have to figure out which is which. You don't think I haven't already exhausted every resource I've had over the years? Through all the agencies I've worked for? And I've never once come this close to anything..." Damn it. He couldn't talk about it without every emotion he had trying to break through. "Until this afternoon, I couldn't even find my mother's name. We went down this road with Moe, yes. I promised not to let it happen again. Then I led you right into Prague. And I tried to do the job the way we're supposed to, no unintended casualties. I got shot down because it was more important to chase a Legend that hadn't been created yet.

"I'm looking for way out of this cycle, Sam. I am. But, I can't see it and the more I look, the more trapped by it I feel."

"There has nothing to do with your job, though. She had the answers all along, or at least some answers. She could have helped when you were still a teenager. This has never been about what agency you work for, but …." He shook his head. "I don't know what. I have no idea why she'd keep this from you. Look, there's a lot more than we don't know, a lot that we need to learn, like your name. There's no way your mother could have registered you with that name. This is Communist Romania we're talking about. Americans were shot. She would have either used a cover or got married and you'd have your father's name. That's just to start, and I'm willing to bet that she knows more, that she told you whatever I saw, which is why we're going to do our job, I'll keep an eye on Deeks and Kensi and you will have tea with Hetty, and we go from there."

Sam cupped G's face. "I know how you're feeling, like nothing you do helps, like there's no way out. I've been there. I stayed for you and the team. Now, we stay for you, your past and the team."

G should have thought of these things. It was what he did, what he'd done for years. He knew the region, knew the history, the customs, at least well enough to blend when he had to blend. Sam shouldn't have been the only one thinking of these things. But, G couldn't seem to focus, to see past the emotion and keep his eye on the mission. "You stayed for me and the team and look where that got you," he huffed. "Alright. I'll keep playing. I'll have tea with Hetty and pretend I can forgive her for keeping all this from me for years. But, now I do want to call Gibbs. He hasn't burnt all his bridges with Langley the way I have. He might have a contact who can verify Hetty's claims. And, him, I still trust."

He wished he could trust she was telling him the truth, finally. That Clara and George really were his family, that they'd worked for the CIA and he had that much in common with someone whose life existed on paper somewhere. But, any faith he'd had in Hetty's word was teetering on the edge of betrayal and G couldn't take it at face value any longer. Not even to salvage whatever relationship he might have had with her.

"Sam..." G wanted to apologize for dragging the other man into the tangled web that was his life, but he didn't know how to even begin. "We left unfinished beer on a SEAL's coffee table."

Sam chuckled as he put his arms around G. "We did, didn't we?" For once, he didn't care, but it wasn't the worse rule he had broken for G. "I have an idea. You call Gibbs, I make a call for dinner, and then we stop talking about work, Hetty, and plans for the night. We'll watch a game and you can show me what else you can do with ice later on. Sounds good?" he asked with a smirk.

"Well, if you're sure you're not up to trying the frozen peas, yet..."

* * *

To hope that they'd make it through the next week or the next case without incidents was idiotic, especially considering that despite their words, they were so tense. Now, they found themselve going after Lybian terrorists who were going after a freedom fighter that was supposed to be in Lybia but wasn't. 

It wasn't too unusual for them or at least it wasn't until a terrorist decided to use a knife instead of a gun. Sam didn't say anything at the scene. He knew that if he questioned the shooting in any official manner, reports would have to be made. Instead he waited until they were back in the office. They were still not done with the case, but this wouldn't wait.

He pulled G in the locker room. "What's going on with you?" he asked. "You shot a man who had a knife. I could have stopped him; you could have shot his arm. What were you thinking?"

"I shot a man who had a knife and who was charging us," G replied tightly, folding his arms defensively over his chest. "I took the shot I had while there was a shot to take. Next time I'll file a request to make sure it's all right to watch your back."

"He was charging me and I was talking to him," Sam answered. "I could have stopped him, G. It's what I do. I'm trained to do it. I could have stopped him and if I couldn't, Deeks and Kensi had a shot." He put a hand on G's shoulder and squeezed gently. "I know you want to watch my back, and I trust you to do it, but you need to trust me, too."

"Deeks is good, but not good enough to have taken that shot with you engaged in close combat." Though he didn't want to argue, G was annoyed with the insinuations. "And, neither Kensi nor I would have had a clear shot if you needed it. It's not _you_ I don't trust. You might have been talking to him, Sam, but he had no intention to listen. I went with my gut and took the shot to protect my partner."

Sam sighed. "I could have taken him," he said, "and all right, maybe I'm - I might be questioning things we do a little too much after Prague, but he had a knife, and that's definitely something I know how to deal with and you could have gone for the shoulder. I was going to be okay even without killing him."

Though he stared at Sam in silence a long time, finally, G nodded, shoulders rounding in defeat. "I know. I don't have an excuse. I know, I'm too on edge about everything. Nate would have more than a few things to tell me if he were here. I just... I saw him go for you and I was back up on that canyon road watching you take that shot point blank. I thought..." He shook his head. "We've had too many close calls in the last year."

Sam sighed. "I know, but we'll be fine. Eric is going to give us a location; we'll go arrest them, and possibly, we'll leave a few alive," he said with a wink, mirroring G's words in Prague. "I just wanted to make sure we were good." He stopped for a moment. "Do you know what I find interesting? We followed a man who got hit by a car and Hunter gave us the riot act. This happens and Hetty is no where to be found. Hunter was way off, but I can't remember Hetty ever telling us that we overstepped our boundaries. Telling, isn't it?" He clapped G's arm. "Let's go find us some terrorists."

* * *

That night G asked Sam to drop him at his house. For all they shared, this was something G had to do alone. Hetty had given him a new file. His mother's file.

There was enough light coming in from outside he didn't bother turning on the lamp, just went to the fireplace and picked up the box he'd started keeping close to two years before. G didn't have 'stuff' in the way most others did. He'd never had anything worth hanging onto, or been allowed to keep what few things he did have. But, he did have a few personal items, pieces of the puzzle that was his past. Alina's photo, the journal in which someone had written down every foster home he ever lived in, -- had that been Hetty? Trying to place the 'challenging child'? -- the tin soldier found on his sister's grave that started this whole mess, they were all inside a box he'd nicked from the office that had once housed tea bags.

Sitting in the middle of the front room, cold moonlight at odds with the warmer light from the street light, he spread these items out on the floor before opening the file from Hetty. Then he stayed there for what seemed like hours and minutes at the same time, thumbing through written records, small facts, and then finally the photo.

It was the woman in his memory of the beach. The woman he'd seen shot when he was only five years old.

His mother.

Clara Callen.

Since that morning on the beach in Romania, he'd been holding them back. But, now, alone in the house where he'd lived the only truly happy memories from his childhood with only the pale remnants of his mother's life surrounding him, he finally let his tears fall in a silent stream down his cheek.

Eventually, he reached for his phone. It was late, but he sent the text anyway.

_Come over?_

Sam didn't waste any time when he saw the message. They were still finding their way through this relationship, and deciding if they'd spend the night together or not was one of those things that it was never a given, but when the request came, there was never a question about what he'd do.

The drive at night went pretty quick. Sam checked out the area as he waited for G to let him in. There was no reason to survey the area, other than general paranoia, and the tension diminished as he got inside. "Are you all right?" he asked when the door was closed again.

G started to shake his head, then stopped and started to nod instead before he stopped again and simply shrugged. "I think, maybe, I might be getting there?"

Turning, he walked back to the spot on the floor where he'd spent the last chunk of time and sat down, one hand held up to Sam in invitation to join him. It was quiet in the house and he was loathe to break that stillness as it was finally starting to find its way into him. For the first time in months he felt a small measure of calm. It might just be the calm before a worse storm, but it felt like the first deep breath he'd been able to take since January.

"Come here. I want...I want to show you."

Sam stared for a moment at G. They were about to have a chat on the floor and his partner thought that there was nothing wrong with it. Shaking his head, Sam made his way to where G was and sat down. "We can buy two big couches, one for my house and one for yours," he said as he tried to make himself comfortable, but big bodies and floors weren't made for each other, unless it was a mission in which case comfort was irrelevant. 

He put an arm around G, eyes scanning the floor, but not touching anything. He'd already seen too much, more than he had a right to when he went to see Hetty. "What do you want to show me?"

"I don't need a couch here. I spend more time at your place, anyway."

Sighing, he leaned against Sam, taking comfort in his presence in ways he'd never allow himself to do in other circumstances. Taking a breath, he reached for the photo. He stared a moment longer, running his thumb over it as if he could actually feel the dark hair beneath it. Then, he handed it to Sam. "That's her, the woman I remembered on the beach. Clara. My mom."

Sam took the picture and smiled softly, before looking up at G. "She was beautiful. Almost as gorgeous as her son, but then I'm slightly biased on this one." He was careful with the picture, but his eyes never strayed from G. "We'll get there together, okay? You're not doing this alone anymore, but you still might want a couch so I don't have to sit on the floor," he said with a smirk.

"Here." He returned the picture to G, before his fingers curled behind the back of G's neck. "Think we're getting there, too? Because I don't like feeling temporary; I'd like you to spend more time at the house."

"I have a very comfortable floor," G teased quietly. "Especially that spot near the kitchen door with the squeaky grate."

Cradling his mother's picture in his lap, he sought Sam's eyes in the low light. He'd been the one to start this, blurting out his feelings one night after a case that stirred up memories and regrets of good things that slipped through his fingers. But, ever since Hetty had disappeared in May, he'd been holding Sam at bay, almost afraid of what they could have if he gave them the chance. G wasn't sure if he was capable of being anything more than a temporary challenge in the lives of the people he cared about.

But, for Sam...?

"I don't know how to do anything else. But-" Leaning forward, he captured Sam's lips in a tender kiss. "I want you here; I want to share this with you because I don't want you to be temporary."

Words were never easy for them, and this was probably the most G had said about their relationship since before they left for Romania. It was certainly more than enough for Sam. "I'm here and I want to share this with you." He made a face. "On the other hand, I don't want to share your floor. Any chance that we can take this home, where we have a couch, even if a small one, and a bed." He leaned forward and nipped G's lip. "I'll even take you out first. My treat, usual rule about weird eggs and nothing older than us," he said with a grin.

G laughed quietly. "Nothing wrong with my floor. But, we can go." Rubbing at the back of his neck, he looked around the floor, at the pieces of his family and his life scattered there. "Rain check on going out? I just...need to talk about her," he added on a harsh breath. G Callen actually needed to talk. "I want you to know her, too. Someone _I_ choose to tell."

And he didn't know if he could tell even Sam everything he was feeling. But, the story would be his and his to tell, his to share in his way with the person with whom he chose to share it.

"I'll be honored to get to know your mother." He squeezed G's shoulder. "Let's go home."

* * *

Another warm night in Los Angeles. Another end of a day spent fighting evil and arresting terrorist. Another night- To break down and cry, or so Sam felt as got the call from the garage to tell him that his baby was gone. Just like that she had disappeared.

"G." It came out as a mix between a squeak and a sob. "G, move it, we need to get to the garage. It's urgent."

"What happened?" G didn't sleep. As Sam had once said, he catnapped. But, the catnaps were a little longer when he shared a bed with his partner and they had just started to fall asleep when the phone rang. Middle of the night calls were never good news and he reacted instinctively to the tone in Sam's voice, despite being comfortable where he was, rolling over to find his clothes and be ready to face whatever had his partner sounding like a strangled kitten. 

Sam looked at G, feeling a little lost. These things didn't happen to him. He got shot at, threatened, kidnapped, even buried alive, but no one stole things from him. "She's gone. Charlene is gone. Someone took her. They took my car, G." The 'how dare them' was clear in his voice. "Go get your car. I'll go to the garage and start canvising the area. Someone must have seen something. She's a classic. How can they not notice?"

Without even thinking about it, G got back on the bed and moved across it to kiss Sam lightly. "Leave my car. I'll ride over with you and we'll split up when we get there. It's faster." Maybe it wasn't life or death to most people, but that car had meant the world to Sam. G was pretty sure it was a mark of the trust building between them the day the other man had shown her to G. Getting up to drag his jeans back on, he turned back to grasp Sam's shoulder. "We'll find her, Sam."

Sam turned his head to look at G, and sighed. "I know how it sounds, but it's my dad's car. I really need to find it." He leaned over and kissed G softly. "Thanks for doing this with me. "

"Like I'd let you go alone," G returned with a smirk. "Come on, let's find your baby."

* * *

They couldn't find his baby. No matter how much they tried, there was nothing. Then, he got the call from LAPD and for a moment, he'd gotten excited, at least until he'd seen the condition of the car, or more accurately the frame of the car. There was no way that he could fix her now. 

Considering everything that they were dealing with, he knew how immature it was. It wasn't the end of the world, he kept repeating himself. It was just a car. There were worse things that could happen. He kept repeating it over and over, and yet he was down, not being able to tease Deeks, and if that wasn't a sign that something was wrong, he didn't know what it was. 

Sam looked up when Hetty told him that there was something for him outside, getting excited for a moment, and then remembering that phone call. He liked to stay where he was, but he couldn't exactly tell Hetty no. 

Following her outside, he stared as something... _it couldn't be_. He looked at G, not able to say anything, or at least not able to say what he really wanted to say. "You did this?" Not that there was any doubt in Sam's mind, and if he sounded a little breathless, they could think that it was because of the car.

"I had a rainy day fund." G smirked, digging into his pocket for the set of keys there. "It's L.A. Doesn't rain a whole lot." He tossed the keys to Sam, smirking softening just a little as his partner caught them with a smile. He'd known that morning, when Kensi gave her assessment that the car was either being chopped for parts or driven to Mexico, the chances of finding Charlene were slim, especially if Eric let Hetty bully him into not helping Sam find her. A few emails sent from his phone between suckers in the car while staking out the pinata store had put him in touch with someone who could get him, well, this. Something that wouldn't replace Sam's prized car, but could maybe make the loss more bearable.

Grinning when Sam told him to get in the car, he ignored the look on Deeks' face that said they were insane to invest so much in a piece of metal. The smile Sam gave him was all G needed to know he'd done something right for the first time since spring. "So," he said at last, watching the office disappear in the rearview, "where are we going?"

Sam didn't answer at first, waiting until he was sure that no one could see them, not even through cameras. When they were far enough, he pulled over. "Thank you." It wasn't just the car, not that he wasn't ecstatic about that, but about knowing what the car meant to him and finding the best next thing. "This means a great deal." He leaned forward and kissed his lover, despite how dangerous it was, and then flashed him a smile. "How about we just drive?"

They could ride off into the sunset.

At least until their next case.


End file.
